The Complexities of a Cat's Curiosity
by Jinxofthedesert
Summary: "Come to the party she said, it'll be fun, she said. Liar, I say." When May goes to a party on behalf of a friend, she finds herself coming into contact with a group of kittens that-unbeknownst to May-follow her home. Yeah, they bring some positive aspects to her life, but all positives have a negative side. Rewrite of Kittens:Akatsuki, Book 1 of the Curiosity Killed the Cat Series
1. In Which Our Curtain Rises

-J-

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 **-Part 1-**

 **Before Alice got to Wonderland, she had to Fall.**

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1\. In Which Our Curtain Rises

12/13/- -

Friday

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There are times where I find myself wondering what a normal day could be elaborated as. I can only assume that it's similar to that of a river's course. Quick, seemingly slow at some points, all in all, a natural part of life. But, in truth, we all have diverse views and normality is no different. To one, a day at home, looking after children, would be ordinary. Others-just to contrast the former-might find ordinary at the head of a gang.

This is why I can say, right here and now, that _this_ is a normal occurrence for me. What, you may ask? What is my normality? Well, it's the young man who is currently coming my direction. Back straight with purpose, lips curled up into that deadly trademark smirk, and eyes brimming with mischievous intent for me in particular. To a random passerby, he'd be quite the looker, curly chestnut hair that casually fell around his erotically toned face. His simple gait screamed sex appeal and that piercing tawny gaze could kill. The picture of a good-natured college student, much like myself, the exception being that gleam in his eyes. I wasn't lying when the word mischievous was brought up, however, the closer he gets, there's a sinister sheen definitely evident. The comfortable ten feet between our bodies are subtracted and my palms are sweating, heartbeat erratic.

He is suddenly stopping before me, towering, simply an unstoppable force that can't help but repel my very being. I know my back is subconsciously pushing against the wall-desiring to escape, hands clamped tightly at my sides, trying-with every fiber of my body-to contain nerves of steel. He cannot know how much this actually gets to me. I'd lose.

"You're cowering again." Damn it, he'd noticed. To my horror, my peripheral instantly picked up that the hallway was empty. The other college students had already fled the classroom, going on with their lives, having places to go and people to see. We were alone. Damn him, he always knew. How? Did he just creep around, watching for the perfect time? No . . . he was just intelligent, something I'd found rare with other people on the football team. But this quarterback, this Jackson, was formidable, so much so that-what was coming-was my normality. "Do I really-" Jackson spaced out his words in a leisure fashion, placing his hands on either side of my face-palms to the walls-and leaned down. Our foreheads were no more than mere inches apart. The smell of cigarettes and thick cologne washed over my senses like a splash of cold water, he was so close, _too_ close. "- _frighten_ you that much?" He stressed the words, lapping up the emotions that crawled over my face. Fear, anger, then, it fell away to a blank slate as my eyes met his, colorless. "Ha," he chuckled, a low rumble in his throat. "How problematic-"

"Who said I was frightened, you're the one preying on innocent young girls. I think I'm not the one with the problem." A twitch from his left eye. Score one for me.

"And you've got a death wish, as usual. Preying on innocence, hmph, sure. I do it all the time, but for a very different reason, so no, you're not in that category . . . that would mean I was interested in you." That smile fell, transforming into a sneer as he gave my body a look over, meeting my gaze with a roll of his eyes. The distaste was predictable, I wasn't a stick figure after all, far from it. "And we both know, that would never happen. I don't fall for shy little bitches, like you." The label made me freeze and I fought to tear my eyes away from his vast brown ones. But all I could see, smell, and even think was him. With such close proximity, it was nearly impossible to focus on anything else.

"B-Back away, please." Each word was thick, catching and tearing at my tongue, like a blade. I licked my lips, trying to get rid of the heaviness, inwardly kicking myself for saying _please_. As if he'd listen to _that_ of all things.

Jackson cocked his head to the side, peering at me with narrowed eyes, taking in my form. I could see him noting the trembles, the tongue swiping over my lips again, and smiled.

"Ah, you don't like me this close, May?" The quarterback's face was so adjacent that his own skins warmth vibrated off mine. "That hurts me." Any other women in my current position would be swooning, pupils dilated for an entirely different reason. The thought of being signaled out from all the other beauties on tall tan legs; honored they'd probably wistfully say. But Jackson disgusted me, and, vice versa. He only harassed me because I was an effortless opportunity for him, and all I could do was sarcastically reply and even then, it was usually by accident, leaving me to mentally curse myself.

 _'With your low self-esteem I'd hope so, that's why you do this, isn't it?'_ To watch Jackson's eye twitch again made my heart come to a dead stop, the color drained from my face. Damn it all, I'd said that aloud, hadn't I? Furious at myself, I bit the inside of my mouth, retaining a look of indifference as blood pooled inside the wet cavern.

Everything stopped as he suddenly shook his head, whipping out a 'sexy' grin that even included hair that mesmerizingly fell into his gaze. "Low self-esteem, good one, May. But we both know who's got the lower one, hm?" That was a painful jab, directed specifically at my need to blend into the background.

His hand's came away from the sides of my head, this was it. I grit my teeth, grinding the molars and preparing myself for the slap. It would sting and certainly burn for the rest of the day, but it would be over. The hands fell to Jackson's side, smile still contained as he looked down at me, eyes glinting as he turned away, leaving me to form a baffled look of confusion. Seriously? Walking away? This was a first, he never merely struck up a conversation that didn't end physically in one way or another.

 _'Must have gotten laid, that's the only reason for such passive behavior.'_ I took a breath, stretching my shoulders back and forth under the heavy winter jacket, watching as Jackson fixed his hair, too frightened to even think of walking away.

"Also," he was stopping, brown leather jacket shining under the dim light of the hall. Dread encased my stomach and my breathing ceased at his lack of movement. "I've got a word of advice for ya. Mind you keep to it, yeah?" My brain was too slow on the uptake to comprehend what occurred next. The open jacket of his swung as the quarterback whirled around, his fist meeting my cheek with a loud crack. Pain engrossed the left side of my face only to be canceled out as the impact brought my head smacking into the brick wall inches behind me. Like so many other days, I saw stars, vision dangerously blurring in a swirl of black and white.

One hand came up to cup the burning cheek, the other clutched onto the wall, keeping me standing up right although the world was twirling in a mad dance of violence. The agony coming from both the front and back of my head transformed into a massive headache as I was left reeling, taking in multiple breaths that shuddered. Holy hell, that damn well, hurt.

Still keeping a firm hold on the wall, I found myself hunched over, staring at the ground with shaking legs. Gritting my teeth, I held back my anger and looked up, finding Jackson still standing before me, his hands in the pockets of the leather jacket. That grin was deadly, those beautiful eyes no longer a facade as he glowered at me.

If there was a layer of playfulness to his look, it vanished as he bent down to my eye level, his hand fisting in the front of my shirt, gripping the collar in a tense grip. Eyes wide, fear overwhelmed me and I became a rag doll as he yanked me against him. His breath hit my face, sending a wave of goosebumps.

"Here's that word of advice: Don't. Talk. Back. Your voice makes my ears bleed, bitch." From our close proximity, I could see the flecks of color in his eyes and I saw the subtext. To him, I was nothing, no one. A waste of space. No one would miss me. Never had I been this frightened before, this was the first time that I couldn't help but fear he'd take it too far and act on those thoughts. Just a few inches and his hands could release the shirt and wrap around my neck. Jackson's hands were big and could probably encircle it twice without problem. I was numb, sweating at the thought, the trembling had ceased, and I'd taken on the stillness of a piece of prey. I dared to take a breath, recoiling inwardly, there was another lingering scent, radiating off him: _blood lust_.

Jackson gave me a quick once-over, taking in the fear with that hunter look and pushed me backward, releasing his hands and backing off. Giving me an impish grin, the quarterback turned and strode away without a care in the world.

Scared shitless, I let out a gasping breath, falling to my knees with a yelp. Each intake of air was strained, shoulders shaking as I fisted my hands, rubbing the tears that proceeded to drip onto the ground. Holy shit that was bad, so so sosososo bad. He would have ended me, I could see it, in those dark pupils, I wasn't anything. To be looked at with that intensity, to feel so open, so naked, so _skinned_. The thoughts were an onslaught, leaving me to breathe heavily, hair hiding my wide-eyed face from view.

Police, they'd know what to . . . no. This was _Jackson_. There were accusations concerning him every day and no matter how much talk there was, he'd never been arrested. Additionally, it never hurt to have a cop for a parent. Both his mom and dad were in the force. Protection, he was the young adult who could do no wrong. He was the bad penny that couldn't help but return.

This was my normality. While others went through life, wishing for something interesting to occur I was stuck with this, this . . . hell, something that most certainly shouldn't be considered _normal_. But, I'll admit, this was the first time I'd feared for my life. Yeah, Jackson was a troublemaker, he and his brother had their hands in everything, and though I'd heard the occasional rumors of what he could do, I'd never seen it up close. Now that I have, I never want to see it again. If I did, it could be my last.

Deep breath. Exhale. Inhale. Repeat.

Repeat, just keep repeating. Keep breathing.

" . . .Come on, get up. Now." Voice full of ice shards I willed myself to struggle up, using the wall as a crutch to aid my rise. Hair stuck to my gaping mouth that still desperately rasped, dragging in each breath, searching for salvation.

Pushing the long hair out of my eyes, I gave a look around-still empty-and hurried down the rest of the hall, going in the opposite way that Jackson had taken. Racing down the staircase, desperate the rid myself of the building. It was crushing me, coming in on all sides, cutting off the air the closer the front door became. The longer I remained inside these walls, the higher the possibility of me running into Jackson again.

No longer able to breathe I bolted, hands madly grasping onto the bar across the door, cold metal stinging the sweaty palms as I yanked it down. The simple sound of the door opening made me erratic, hissing when it didn't open fast enough.

Free of the building I ran out, a greeting of winter air met my face, snow catching in my open mouth like candy. It was freezing but I was smiling. The cold air a bliss. I came to a stop before the icy stairs that coincided with the road below, closing both eyes and allowing the elements of winter seep into my bones and brain. Damn, I needed this, the cold was basically a drug to my system, wiping away the fear and presenting me with an escape of numbness.

The snow wrapped around me, building its version of a jacket across my own, turning the black jacket white. I could feel it forming a layer over my hair, making it firm but not all that different from the already platinum hair.

The high didn't last long, however.

"MAY!" Trance broken, my eyes snapped open and out of sheer reflex, I took a small step, sliding on pure ice. With a small yelp, I slid, catching myself on the railing right before I could fall down the entire staircase.

Finding a fraction of balance, I looked out towards the snow-covered lawn, spotting two figures making their way towards me. The left one's gait stretched far due to long, spindly legs, easily able to keep pace with the other whose pace had relatively quickened.

"You're late!" The first to stop was the shorter of the two; young and pleasant on the eyes, Gwen held an air of superiority, although her snarky childish attitude did nothing to hold up the argument. She was all smiles, chestnut hair curling out from under an ebony beanie as the brunet wrapped bony arms around her small chest. That smile averted to that of annoyance, blinking to meet my eyes with a huff of frosted air from bright lips colored in crimson lipstick. Her eyes beheld a haunted look, whereas underneath was recognition, whether she knew or not, I wouldn't be surprised if the brunet had already guessed the reason for my being late. "You better have a good explanation, girly girl. Or we're gonna have a problem real quick, here and now." Good nature aside, I read between the lines, taking her silent question into account. _Where the hell were you?_ That was Gwen for you, she always had to be in the know, no matter how trivial the subject.

Instead of replying, my attention span stopped at Gwen's shadow. With a height of 6'3, Jo resembled a skyscraper, watching the world from high up with a forever bored expression. On rare occasions, he'd crack a smile, but today it was nothing more than a straight-lipped look, dark mocha colored eyes turned up to me for once. He was silent, forever the watchful specter. The perfect follower.

With an anniversary of two years, I'd come to know Jo quite well, when he wasn't being a living statue. If people thought I was a nobody, then Jo literally didn't exist in this life. No one ever seemed to acknowledge his presence, not even the professors noticed him. Didn't I say a living statue? That couldn't be more accurate. But, Jo being Jo, he didn't bat an eyelash at the prospect. To be ignored and forgotten was his normality. Sounded pretty chill compared to my own, wonder what it would be like to switch for a day.

Those soulless mocha eyes carefully watched my descent, in which I quickly found myself craning my neck in order to retain eye contact. Coming to a stop before them, not uttering a single sound, Jo gave me a nod of greeting. His eyes darted to Gwen who stood in front of him before meeting my gaze with furrowed eyebrows. That look. Something was up.

Keeping full eye contact, Jo crossed his arms and gave the sign, the left index tapped his upper arm. Once. Twice. Thrice. The sign that meant something was up and based on the constant eye pointing to Gwen I could only assume it had something to do with her. But what? What was wrong?

Turning my attention back to Gwen, I found her glaring, her annoyance only spiked at the blank expression I gave her. "I'm waiting!" Oh yeah, she wanted to know the reason behind the unacceptable five minutes I'd kept them waiting. Five minutes, most certainly the end of the world by any means.

"I left you waiting for five mins and you're ready to tear my head off?" I sighed, scratching the back of my head, giving me a sense of security. Even so, I still couldn't help the urge of checking over my shoulder for Jackson.

Gwen's face turned an interesting shade of scarlet giving me the incentive to continue just to ease her growing anger. "Your precious five minutes were spent on a rather abrupt meeting with Jackson, sorry, it was unavoidable." To combat her own look, I wrapped arms around my chest and sulked, glowering at her miserably. I could care less if she saw how much this actually got to me. How my stomach had turned, how scared I'd been. How I'd feared for my life. Maybe she'd actually be sympathetic for once. Truly sympathetic.

The scarlet eradicated itself from the brunet's gaunt face, disappearing from the bony cheekbones, much like curtains being pulled back. Any second now and she'd knit those perfectly formed eyebrows together, bite that bottom lip-just enough not to smudge the lipstick-and express her sorrow for me. Maybe even ask what she cou-

"Isn't that the eleventh time this month?" She hummed, "Jackson must be having a good month if that's all he's done." I only stared at her, expression unchanging. "I swear to you, he's being this way just cause he likes you." The snort that nearly escaped Jo made me stare at him. Using his rare emotion card, he rolled his eyes, both of us seeming to agree that Jackson liking me, wasn't the case. Why did I ever think she'd be sympathetic? My brain _must_ be part masochistic.

Gwen thinking that violence meant attraction wasn't as random and weird as one would think. She'd had a peculiar past when it came to relationships. Some were abusive, others domestic, and all for sport-she'd wear them until they broke and move on. Settle and ongoing relationships weren't in her vocabulary. Not to mention that neither gender was safe from her sexual urges. In my eyes, she was worse than any other disease when it came to using others for personal desires. Gwen turned my stomach more than Jackson could-if that was possible-and yet I forever clung to her, like an addict to their drug. Jo unconsciously did the same. We both clung, comprehending that Gwen was the only one to regard us in a positive light.

"But that's the past, there's a reason I wanted to talk to you." Fingering the bottom of my jacket, I patiently waited. This would have to be what Jo was silently referring to beforehand. I tensed, already uncomfortable at my suspicion. "There's gonna be a party tonight at Cass' sorority. I'm going, and I'm bringing you both along." The brunet balanced on the balls of her feet, a grin wide upon her lips.

"The word party clearly doesn't fit in that context, Gwen. We're talking a rave." A sigh of disgust left me, eyes rolling to peer up at the bright gray sky, it would snow later.

The brunet steeled herself at my obvious distaste. I knew well that she'd caught the silent decline to her demand. Rave or party, to me, there wasn't much difference. One way or another, I loathed both equally. I found little to no joy in the act of getting drunk and sleeping around with strangers was highly distasteful.

"Fine, it's a rave, May. But it'll be fun. You _have_ to come . . . for me?" _'_ _Oh God.'_ Pulling the sympathy card just like that? I looked down at her, noting our difference in height. "Come on, you made me even wait for you today! And after you promised that you'd come right after class!" _'Well,'_ I thought, _'_ _there must be something special about this one. She's actually trying to guilt trip me.'_

"Give me one good reason." This was pushing my normality a bit. Like Jo, following Gwen around was natural, it was safe to be around someone who could see you. Prove that, in some mixed up way, you actually mattered. But, today, I was fed up with everything. Jackson had pushed first, so much so that I was starting to wonder if bad luck would surely follow me around today. If my ordinary was being threatened then something bad might actually occur.

The look of utter shock on the brunet's face surprised me, she was taken aback by my sudden nerve to talk back and question her. Jo was watching from up above, his own shock professionally masked, I wonder what the top of our heads looks like from his perspective?

"Oh, I'll give you a reason." Frowning, Gwen stepped forward, effortlessly entering my bubble. This was the second time today and I undoubtedly wasn't enjoying it. "You're fucking going, cause tomorrow, bright and early, I'm going back to Michigan for the holidays." Things were beginning to make sense. "And God help me, you're gonna go and spend time with me tonight." There was no room for discussion in the way Gwen craned her head up, a frown tight over her bony complexion. Our faces were inches apart, glares even in their intensity.

"Bright and early?" She wanted me to return with an attack. Demand my right to say no. But it was her last night . . . my best bet would be to try and retain something-anything other than a rave. "Tonight wouldn't be a good night to get hammered if you're leaving early, why not do something else instead? Why not a movie or din-" The brunet shook her head, defiant as ever. Childish, as I've said, I stand by that. She wouldn't budge, there was nothing I could do or say.

Mentally deflating, I met Jo's gaze. He was soundless, motionless and yet I could see, that he too, didn't want to go. But he'd also been talked into going, no room to back out. Like it or not, we were all in this together. "Fine, you win Gwen. But do not expect me to be there long." The anger that created wrinkles in their wake disappeared as Gwen grinned at the yield. She earned a frown when giving my cheek a couple of pats.

"So glad that you managed to see things my way." Her way translated to the one and only road. I would hate to see what she'd do if either of us stuck with reluctance and dismissal. Perhaps she'd resort to force?

Still grinning to herself, Gwen caught my left arm and Jo's right, twirling her own around both like a viper. When we were literally wrapped around her fingers, she gave a nod and waltzed us down the snow covered path. We were nothing more than a chain, centered around the brunet, our drug, our necessity. But, in reality, neither Jo nor I were happy.

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The cavern's silence was interrupted quite abruptly by two pairs of footsteps. Side by side they went, the smell of death heavy on their backs as they each heaved a rotten corpse. Behind them, early morning light spilled in from the outside world, trying in vain to reach the hidden secrets that clung to the men. It only caught onto their capes, one black with red clouds, the other long and dark purple-the angular shadows swiftly swallowed them whole.

Taking a deep breath, the man in the purple cloak stopped at one of the kanji circles and placed the body into it-careful to keep all limbs within the boundaries of the circle. Straightening back to his full height, he peered through the eyes of his white mask at the body he'd brought. It was nearly a year old by now, the skin mostly disintegrated, what was left clung defiantly to the bones. Dead or not, the man recognized the small tufts of red hair that clung to the rotting skull. To think this one had strived to be immortal, maybe he could have succeeded if granted more time.

"Zetsu, are you positive that this will work?" Not one to normally doubt the other, Madara couldn't help feeling doubtful when he caught sight of maggots writhing inside the corpses' ribcage. He sniffed lightly, looking up and over his shoulder, finding the white and black being not far behind him. The thing they held could hardly be considered a body, chunks of flesh that, at one time, had been tan arms and legs-were thinly connected to a ravaged torso by thick string like appendages. Kakuzu. It was a wonder that he'd retained any kind of human shape after the dissection the Leaf had put him through. Little to say, Zetsu hadn't been able to collect much when it was all said and done. But, the ritual would work with what little they'd managed to acquire.

Remaining silent, Zetsu placed the body parts into the circle, keeping light on his feet so not to accidentally smear the blood.

Finally, it was White Zetsu who answered. "You really should stop worrying." Pulling a shriveled heart from one the pockets within his cloak, the white being placed it besides the altered limbs. Subconsciously, he licked his lips before turning towards Madara, flashing him a comforting smile.

Seeing Zetsu's undying faith was enough for the leader of the Akatsuki to nod, a weight lifting somewhat from his shoulders. Still, Madara couldn't fully erase the doubt within him. He knew that it would remain until the ritual was over with.

 **"Ugh, I can't believe you're still worried over this, _Obito_."** Madara nearly flinched at the name, gritting his teeth instead. **"Kabuto said it would work. Not to mention the week we took to test it ourselves. It'll be fine, so please, can we just get on with it?"** Black Zetsu huffed, voice abounding with exasperation. The Akatsuki leader knew well that the black being was sick and tired of the entire ordeal. To be honest, they all were. With the upcoming war, Kabuto's sudden change in allegiance, and finding bits of the dead Akatsuki members-all three of them were ready for the finale.

Normally calm, cool, and collected, Madara was tense at the prospect of returning his full attention to the war once this was done. Truly, there wasn't much for him to worry about, the Gedo statue was coming along nicely and their numbers had greatly increased after Kabuto decided to partner up with the Akatsuki. It was going so well that Madara had half a mind to think that god had taken a liking to his organization.

They'd have reanimated ninja from every village thanks to Kabuto, however, Madara couldn't help but desire more man-power, just in case. Similar to the snake, the Akatsuki leader's ace was six feet under-well, some of them, more often than not, they were extremely difficult to obtain. A perfect example would be Deidara, who had killed himself by using his suicidal jutsu. Thanks to that, there hadn't been anything left of the body. Both Zetsu and Madara had nearly given up when they'd stumbled onto Kakuzu's belongings. The older Akatsuki member had kept some skin and blood after stitching Deidara's arms back on-just in case. Smart old fool.

Their deaths, at the time, hadn't been that surprising to the Akatsuki leader, but now, the organization needed their members back. Living members, unlike the corpses that Madara found himself staring down on.

"Is everything ready?" He sounded calm, but that doubt still clouded the inner workings of his mind. Black Zetsu hadn't been lying, they'd already tested it earlier on a random corpse they'd found. It had worked and, thanks to Zetsu, the ninja was dead once more. The ritual would work. He needed to stop this fog of ambiguity.

"Yes, let us just get into position." Madara was silent as the Zetsu's pulled apart, their white and black sides melting away from each other in slow motion. He took a deep breath, widened his stance and waited with hands raised, ready for the ritual to begin.

As soon as Zetsu had become two different beings, they went to their own side of the cavern, composing a triangle with Madara at the tip. Nodding in unison the hand signs began. Three pairs of hands sped through the motions, in perfect sync with each other. Not long after, the bloody kanji began radiating and the Akatsuki leader felt chakra zap between the three individuals as the ritual began the reanimation. The air was tense with chakra and Madara smiled when the red light spread upwards, engulfing the middle of the room with remorse. A ringing overtook the air and the light crept across the ground, tendrils reaching towards the three men, sensing their chakra.

When the light nearly reached his toes, Madara took a few steps back, tired from the amount of chakra he'd had to use for the ongoing ritual. Stilling his hands, the Akatsuki leader watched the red light, dance before him. Somewhere inside that, the bones were strengthening, skin reappearing, and eyes opening to realize that they were alive.

With both Kabuto's reanimation and Madara's Akatsuki members, this war would be an easy win. Not to mention the other cards hidden up the Akatsuki leader's sleeves. The villages wouldn't know what hit them.

Chuckling to himself, Madara tiredly wrapped his arms around his chest. He was very confident in both the plan and in himself.

 _-Thump-_

Eyes widening, the Akatsuki leader froze.

 _-Th-Thump-_

Under the mask, Madara smiled. One of the members was awake inside that light. Which one? If he were to bet, it would probably b-

Just as he was about to think of the name, something touched his back with supreme force. Stumbling to catch onto anything, Madara fell face first into the red light. Hot and cold tore the mask right off his face, pins and needles stabbed into every limb with consistency. The red light burned wide open eyes, agony pulsed through him, tearing and reforming all the bones in his body. Pain and blindness were all the Akatsuki leader knew before he blacked out.

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 **Author Notes:** So the first official, rewritten chapter is now up. Please leave a review and tell me what you think, I'd love to know ;)

Have a blessed day, luvs.

-Jinx of the desert


	2. In Which Our Similarities and Contrasts

-J-

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2\. In Which Our Similarities and Contrasts

12/13/-

Friday

* * *

 **Late Afternoon-**

From what I've witnessed, it's normal for friendships to feel endless; there wasn't a beginning and there'll be no end. It was just as it was, always and forever. But I knew the exact day, the precise minute, and the last second before Gwen had come into my life, strutting her stuff as if she owned the joint.

It had been the first day of freshman year and I was frightened to the point of pure anxiety; coming very early, I'd snuck into the classroom, promptly laying claim to a seat in the back. With trembling hands, I blindly pulled a book from my bag, propping it open in hope to keep my brain occupied. To this day, the book's title and contents still elude me, it could have been a dictionary for all I know.

Not long after, people followed suit, trickling in one by one at first, then came the masses as 4:40 drew closer. I paid little mind to them, shifting my feet this way and that, unable to get comfortable no matter the position. Retaining eye contact with the clock, I watched with bated breath, exasperated at the slow movement of the damn device. Why couldn't the first day just fly by?

4:27 rolled on and people were beginning to look around the room, hoping to make acquaintances. Back in my seat, I was a mess from their eyes stopping on me every so often. Their gazes were unnerving. Couldn't they just befriend their roommates and be done with it? _'Please stop looking around and trying to catch someone's eye . . . especially mine.'_ With my luck, they'd decide that was an easy target to harass.

It had just lethargically turned 4:28 when the back doors were flung open with tremendous force, banging into the walls and providing the newcomers a strident introduction. Curious as to who would create such an evident entrance, I nervously sent a look over my shoulder.

One of the two who'd entered was a girl-her head held high as she peered around the vicinity, an older guy on her arm, who-based off his demeanor-was a senior. Instead of hurrying to attain a seat, they stood there, the girl clutching the man's arm as she browsed the faces that had turned to look at the loud newcomers. Mid-way through her observation, she gave a self-pitying look, turning to whisper something into the man's ear, motivating him to smile.

Becoming disinterested in them, I went back to blankly staring at the book, wondering if the teacher would ask for introductions, in hopes to embarrass people further. I prayed they wouldn't when a person plopped into the seat beside me, not expecting it, I jumped, nearly throwing the book across the room.

Clutching the object to my chest-like a shield-I reclaimed a breath and turned, finding the girl staring at me with an extensive smile, eyeing me up and down. Sub-conscious, I wrapped my arms closer to my person, feeling exposed under such a piercing gaze.

"Why hello there, girly girl. I'm Gwen Bullard. Guess what?" She paused, her bright red lips spreading up in a wide smile that overtook her facial structure. A chill ran down my spine at the intensity behind that grin. "You're my new best friend." That was all she said and I was left, unable to speak, watching her out of the corner of my eye, taking notes with a glittery pen and winking at me every so often.

Nearly three years have passed since that fateful day and Gwen has become the one to call the shots and I can't help but willingly follow, pleased that she actually chose me for such a precious role. Even so, I often find myself perplexed over the reason as to why the brunet had chosen me. _Me_ , out of nearly a hundred other students! Students who were so superior compared to me. Talk about luck. If I'd taken any other seat, things could have concluded differently and I would still be a loner.

There was a cold shiver down my spine at the mere thought of being alone.

Yeah, Gwen had her bad days, some really _really_ bad days. I won't say specifics since I'm glad to have her friendship, but . . . things could get ugly. The brunet's never laid a hand on me but she doesn't need to physically hurt someone in order to get a point across. I'd like to say that these days didn't happen often but to each their own so I won't judge since I'm sure other people's friends are very similar.

Everything else aside, I'm content to have her as a best friend.

Gwen was all I needed . . . until our numbers increased by one.

When it comes down to Jo, I cannot remember the exact moment in which he'd fallen into step with Gwen and me. It was by the brunet's introduction though, I literally hadn't even known of his existence until she'd forcefully turned my seat to face her and gesture towards the tall lanky teen a few steps behind her. I'd craned my neck up, meeting his gaze as he merely stared down at me. He neither smiled nor frowned, just looked as he stood there, a living statue as he waited for my response. "He's gonna be our new best friend, May!" And that was that.

It took a few weeks before Jo opened up, when he did, it was in response to something I'd said. I couldn't help but be surprised at his sudden reply, finding myself subconsciously smiling at him. If Gwen had been jealous over the fact that he seemed more comfortable around me, she hadn't shown it when giving Jo a hug for finally letting us in.

As time passed I began to notice how he frequently acknowledged me. Eventually, we became thick as thieves and my happiness grew. Not long after, Gwen pushed between us, getting in Jo's face. She'd seductively licked her lips and did the one thing that I hadn't expected-she asked him out. Both Jo and I were shocked at her random demand, leaving us to merely glance at each other and numbly shrug.

I'll admit that, at the start, I held many fears over the entire ordeal. Looking back on it now, there were only two that had plagued my mind like gospel. One being the relationship itself. Out of the two of us, I'd known Gwen the longest and had seen her go through many partners. If I were to explain her relationship's to someone, I'd say they usually resembled a match. Hot and fascinating at first, but the thing about matches is that they sputter and die pretty quick. The longest Gwen had ever been with someone had been a month and three weeks and only after a few romps in the bedroom. To my surprise, the brunet actually took their relationship slow and had yet to actually have sex. They're still together, even after a year and seven months.

The second fear was based on my own selfishness. I didn't want to become that third wheel that would fade into the background and eventually disappear altogether. It was such a vivid sense of dread that I couldn't look at them without gritting my teeth. This went on for a few months until I slowly came to a realization: nothing had changed. Yes, they certainly held hands, whispered sweet nothings into the other's ear, and once in awhile, I'd even catch them mid-kiss-but overall, things actually seemed to get even better. Jo and I started having constant movie nights, just the two of us and I got introduced to a new fun side of him. Gwen's attention was still a constant, she sat with me in class, babbled nonstop, and dragged me to the store whenever she got a chance.

They were still my best friends.

However, although those fears have ceased to exist, I'd be called dishonest if I were to say that there weren't any other fears dwelling within me. For the past few weeks, there was a dark, foreboding shadow drifting in the back of my mind, tempting and hinting at points where my mind would wander. This fear was nagging, eating away and it wouldn't disperse, no matter what I did or thought.

I'd considered talking to Gwen about it but thought better of it. There was always Jo . . . he was a good listener, hell, he probably knew me better than I knew myself.

"Hey," at the sound of my voice, I could hear Jo shift in his chair at the old battered table. "I've got a question for you." I turned away from the microwave, where I'd been watching a bag of popcorn slowly expand. Its loud pops sounded behind me as I was met with Jo's soulless mocha eyes.

"Hm?" Seeing my serious expression, Jo placed his chin in his hand and stilled. We stared at each other, allowing silence to corrupt the space between us.

I came around the counter, leaning against it solemnly.

There were many ways to voice the fear within my person, but-at present-I was having a difficult time choosing the right words. My tongue felt heavy as I absently chewed my lip to shreds.

No, this fear was ridiculous. Issuing a thick swallow, I fisted a hand and forced the lips to part and the tongue to form the words needed.

" . . . . . Do you think I should drop out?" If Jo were to be switched out with my mother at this question, she'd have stared at me with those colorless eyes of hers. Then, with voice dead, she'd relay a desperate plea to continue. _"_ _So much money, sweetheart. It'll all be for not if you quit!"_ But dear old Mom wasn't present. Wasting money. That was _her_ fear, nothing else seemed to matter, not even when the marriage had failed. Just the: did we have enough? Does this random shit I bought you, make you forget Poppy?

Jo wasn't like my Mom, he was intelligent in a different context and understood my thought pattern better than anyone, better than even Gwen. He acted unemotional half the time, the perfect adult, but he'd been there. I've seen the real him and his beaming smile . . . . sometimes I wonder if I'm the only person that's ever seen it.

As Jo straightened up in the seat, his gaze was fixed on me. A far-off glint flickered at the edges of those mocha eyes, thinking and debating, but his attention remained on me.

"That's not a decision I can make for you, May . . ." Inhaling, he crossed both legs and bit his lip, trying to figure out what to say. Though curious as to what else he would add, it was just as interesting to watch the gears turn. Jo's eyes flicked away from me, to the window, the floor, and back to me again. All in the span of seconds. "But, I guess that giving you advice would be the suitable thing to do." A bright pale pink tongue shot out, licking his lips in a hesitant manner. "Give me a second to think." Nodding, I quietly found my gaze peering out the window, finding the next door neighbors brick siding to be highly entertaining. Funny that the couple who lived there were still gone. After being here three years, I'd come to know them well. They had-after all-been the first to welcome me and . . . well _us_ to the neighborhood. Perhaps the husband had grabbed an extra shift and the wife had run to the store. Speaking of which, a run to the store would be a good thing, perhaps tomorrow would be best. ' _Can't live off ramen and macaroni forever, doesn't do anything for our already . . . less than satisfactory figure. Yeah, that sounds better than chubby, or fat.'_ Turning back to Jo, I found him with eyes closed, knuckles white and laced before him, elbows leaned on the table. He appeared to be praying in a weird way.

"I'd say," I perked up at his hoarse voice. "Do that, but only if that's what you _really_ want." The right eye of his opened, peering at me, judging my reaction. I sighed, wrapping both arms around my chest and glaring up at the ceiling.

"Before you shoot me down, would you at least hear me out?" My gaze returned to him, taking note of his seriousness. He could kill someone with that look, surprisingly he used it on a daily basis when out and about. Perhaps it was the reason why he was invisible to everyone. Were they intimidated from that penetrating look or did they actually mistake him as nothing?

Taking note that my attention was back on him, Jo cast his view to the table, re-closing his eyes and giving what he was to say-one more look through. Subconsciously he nodded, he knew that whatever he had to say was something that could potentially help.

"I remember the last year of high school very well." Those dark eyes reopened, lifting to stare out the window as if he could see it replaying those days. There was a sad and determined look there and I couldn't help but shift uncomfortably at it. "Everyone wouldn't shut up about which college they'd gotten accepted at. I'm sure you experienced it." I nodded, remembering my last year. All my classmates had been riveted and I . . . hadn't. It was just another step, more schooling. That wasn't fun to me. 'Just do it and get it over with', was the mindset I'd carried. "But, unlike them, I'd decided to wait. I saw no point in going, well, at least not at that point in time." One of my eyebrows quirked in question. It was understandable why some didn't go off to college right off the bat, but, Jo to me always seemed focused on his schooling. He was serious about it, trying his darndest to attain good grades no matter the subject in question.

Having caught sight of my questioning look, Jo gave a sad smile, a low chuckle rising from his chest though, to me, it wasn't very happy. "The only reason I'm currently here is because my parents want their oldest son to take over the company. They didn't agree with my wanting to simply work at a library." Jo suddenly found the lines in the wooden table very interesting as he traced them with his eyes, awaiting me to reply. A library? Him? I gave a good look to his structure. Jo always seemed like the puzzle piece that one didn't know where to place. He was tall and lanky, skinny as a rail and had those dark mocha eyes that were a bit eerie. When we'd first met I could have pictured him being that creepy kid in movies and thought he'd do well in trying to become an actor. With the more talkative he became, I realized that didn't fit either. He just didn't fit, like me; we didn't know where but we hoped that, eventually, we'd find a spot where our edges fit just right.

"You wanted to work in a library?" The more I thought about it, I couldn't help but find myself fascinated with the prospect. Perhaps being a librarian would work with someone like him.

The library had always been a precious place to me in my youth, call me a weirdo, but I was one of those kids who enjoyed reading to the full extent. Yeah, movies were fun and so were video games, but reading had been a passion for a very long time.

I scratched the back of my head as a bittersweet thought crossed my mind. "You know, with the way things are going, libraries might become a thing of the past, Jo." Pulling his fingers out of their tense grip, Jo shook them, turning in the seat. He leaned an elbow on the back of the chair, giving me a tiny smirk.

"Hmph, not with bookworms like yourself around. They'll last." A slim finger was lazily gestured in the direction of the other three chairs surrounding the table. Each seat was piled with books, bookmarks sticking out of each one. Sadly, I'd run out of shelving space and had to make due; the chairs were the perfect place since I currently was the only person living in my house. "See, in the future, you'll be the one of the one's keeping people from losing their jobs. I applaud you." Jo's smirk only grew as he playfully gave a golf clap, ending with silent laughter.

"I'll make sure to add that to the to-do list." I gave a light chuckle just as the microwave announced that the popcorn was finished.

Although I was still a bit unsure of what to do concerning college, the smile stayed as I pushed away from the counter and made my way around to the kitchen. The sound of my feet on the tile sounded weird and lonely. I didn't like it.

When pulling the hot bag of popcorn from the microwave, I found it felt numb in my grasp.

" . . . But yeah, my parents didn't agree on the career and demanded my going to college," Jo's voice died off, eyes clinging to me while I dumped the kernels into a bowl.

Shaking off the thought of loneliness I crossed the room. It took a few seconds of clearing a chair of books before I could sit across from him. Jo quietly waited, flashing me a quick, tired smile. "Me, being a dumb teenager, agreed, thinking it was the best option." One of his hands tapped on the table with unneeded force; he frowned, glaring out the window again. I was starting to wish I hadn't asked him, it only seemed to bring up bad memories for him. Guilt rushed over me and I slumped in the seat, biting my lip.

"Hey, if you don't wanna talk-" Jo merely held up a hand and the words died in my throat, leaving me to shut my mouth and swallow them back. If it was his desire to finish, no matter how difficult this was for him, then it was only right to let him.

Holding my tongue, I traced the edges of the bowl that I held in my lap. The smell of butter wafted up from it, hungrily, I refrained from having the first bite.

"Now that I've come this far and changed my major five times . . . I wish I hadn't bent to their will." Slowly, Jo got up, walked over to me, and kneeled there. I was now the one looking down on him and the difference was weird. So this was how it was like for Jo when he talked to Gwen or me.

One hand was bent over his knee in a casual way, while the other cupped my shoulder. He looked me right in the eye. To my confusion, his eyes were pure black. Not the kind of black that was dead and merely the look of a corpse, they were livid, their walls burned away and peering at me. I was left there, unsure how to react to the raw, unbridled emotions I was seeing.

Jo wore a mask. No, not an actual one, one crafted from his silence and desires. He used it to hide from those around him, an actual cloak of invisibility. In all the years of being with him, I'd only seen the mask removed three times, the first when we'd done our first movie night, the second at a dinner we'd gone to together, and the third was right now. I'm pretty sure that even Gwen hasn't seen him without it yet.

Those black eyes showed me his understanding, his loss, and how he saw me.

" . . . So, tell me, May. Are you happy with what you're doing here? Are you happy with your life?" He paused, eyes searching my own, trying to read me like I was him. The problem was that his eyes, in the moment, showed everything he was thinking: he wanted me to understand and wanted an answer, a truthful answer. Like a woman asking her best friend if he likes her, he's suddenly in a corner and doesn't know what to say. I was similar. I didn't know how I felt about the situation. Unsure. I was so unsure. How could my eyes be that emotional when I myself didn't understand what I felt? "Is _this_ what you _want_ , May?" Those eyes were digging and begging. Jo wanted to know what I wanted from life. But . . . . what did I want? Why was I even here? Hell, my curiosity is just as curious as Jo's.

These were questions I frequently asked myself, usually in the middle of the night when I was alone in the dark and no one could hear me. They'd never been answered and that left me falling down a rabbit hole of fear, but unlike Alice, there was no bottom in sight. All there was was the anxiety of what was to come, or worse, what wasn't to come.

Perhaps, one day, I'd finally smash into the bottom of that hole and find myself alone.

But right now, the fall was continuing and I still didn't know the answers.

 _'What is the purpose for my existence?'_

 _'Why don't I know what I want?'_

There was a pile of knots growing in my stomach, with each passing second, it grew. _'Why?'_ I felt sick. "I don't know." They were twisting up my windpipe; it was getting harder to breathe. I tried clearing my throat, but that did nothing. "Sorry, you probably expect me to kno-"

"No, I don't expect that." His hands were suddenly cupping my own but they felt odd against my numb fingers. "Hey, look at me." Somehow, my gaze had fallen from his own, finding refuge in my lap. Blinking I saw our joined hands for the first time; with a deep breath, I gripped his fingers harder.

I looked up and the knots receded as I found Jo smiling down on me. There was no judgment, only reassurance.

"I've come this far, believing that there is some reason for my being here. Whether it be to learn or to impact someone else . . . . I know there's a reason." Jo kept his gaze on me and couldn't help but give him a tiny smile in appreciation at both him and his words. "I believe, that you too, will find your own reason. But you gotta be patient. Now breathe, ok?" After a few deep breaths, I felt much better. Satisfied with my reaction, he patted my hands, letting go to sneak a few pieces of popcorn.

As terrifying as I found it, I had to be patient. I inhaled. I'd find it. There was a reason for my being here, like Jo said, and I would find it.

"Thanks."

"Of course, what would you do without me?" A smirk now corrupted his face. The tense atmosphere lessened as I heard the sarcasm laced throughout his sentence.

"Uh-huh, surrreee I do." I grinned, socking him in the shoulder with a playful laugh. "Also, you ever smirk like that around Gwen?" The questions and desperation were clawing at my mind and I tried desperately to shake them off as I stood up.

Jo licked his fingers of butter. "Well, you know what they say, we each wear different masks around different people." The look he gave me was final, I wasn't gonna get anything more out of him on the subject.

I gave a tired sigh, "Why do you always sound like a frick'n fortune cookie?" This question made Jo burst out laughing, he jumped up, pulling me with him.

"I guess it's a gift, now come on. I came over for a movie nigh-" he stopped, scratching the back of his neck thoughtfully. "-well, this wouldn't be a movie night since it's late afternoon. . ." He thought about it some more before shrugging, the smirk returning. "But who cares?!" The sudden emotions coming from Jo left me a bit winded but it was a nice change every once in awhile.

The living room was at the front of the two level house, it was small, but a comfy kind of small that was just big enough for the twin couch, table, and tv set. It wasn't a grand place but I found it quite rewarding to watch Jo-after grabbing the bowl from me-dive bomb onto the couch. He shifted a bit, making himself comfortable on the frayed cushions before eating a few more kernels.

"So, what movie tonight? Action? Romance? . . . . _Horror_?" With the way he worded that single genre, I knew he was already trying to convince me to pick it.

"You and your horror movies." Jo's love for horror movies always made me smile. When he was away from Gwen and actually opened his mouth, it was delightful to perceive that we were cut from a similar cloth. Horror movies were a similarity. Yeah, everyone in them were commonly clueless morons who, at the end of the day, deserved to die for such idiocy. But, what fascinated me was what was occurring in the background. Not to mention the simple jump scares and chills that came from engrossing oneself into the atmosphere the movie itself set up.

"Heyyy don't give me that! You like them just as much as I do . . . . orrrrrr-" He prolonged the word, flicking a popcorn kernel up into the air, twisting his neck back to try and catch it. I cracked a smile when he missed, the kernel bouncing off his nose and landing on the ground beside the couch. Groaning at the failure, Jo slumped his head against the back of the couch.

"Or?"

"Oh, sorry, can't you see I'm mentally crying over here?"

"Maybe it just didn't like you."

"Hey!" Jo let out a laugh and I deflated in happiness. These were the times that I liked the most. When it was just me and him, two people in a messed up world-able to come together and just have some fun. I didn't even second guess why Jo was so open with me, why I felt safe. He made me happy, just his presence and yet . . . I know I'm missing something. What that something was, I cannot be positive as to what it is. Perhaps it's my purpose? "Anyway, where was I . . . ah yes: Orrrr we could watch anime. I've got the second season of Tokyo Ghoul with me today, and we both know that's got enough blood and gore to satisfy our horror tendencies, right?" My eyes went wide and I instantly nodded, forgetting my previous thoughts.

"Finally, you got it! Do you know how long I've waited for us to watch it together? I could have watched it online," I gave an exasperated sigh, fighting a smile. "But at least now we can enjoy it together for the first time."

"Hey, I"m sorry I made you wait. I've been busy." Jo feigned being heartbroken before checking the time on his phone with a quick look. "Also, that party starts around nine. When do you wanna go?" Jo shifted, pulling the movie case out from under him and handing it over to me. Our hands brushed and I gently squeezed his before turning around and popping the disc into the blu-ray player.

"I don't know about you, but I don't want to be there long an-"

"Believe me, I already know that much. We're both in the same boat, May." He scratched his chin, thinking for a second. "How about we go later tonight then. We can stay there an hour, half an hour at least and then go." The main menu popped up, filling the room with blacks and reds, prompting me to crawl onto the couch, cuddling up to Jo.

"Hm, it'll be late. You could spend the night if you wanted." One mocha eye caught mine and he winked.

"I was waiting for that." He laughed when I elbowed him. "But yeah, I'd like that. My roommate won't miss me, knowing him he'll be at the party too." Of course he'd be. It was Cass who was throwing the party. She was a big deal at the college, head of a few well-known clubs and the perky blonde who everyone loved. Jo and I loathed her with a passion, and yet, Gwen loved the hell out of her.

One arm came around my shoulders and finally, I could relax against him. Resisting a sigh of contentment, I hit the play button.

We sat there, watching for a good couple hours and I found myself extremely comfortable in his grip. Perhaps, this was my purpose. To be here for Jo. When Gwen wasn't around, we were each other's rock and kept the other standing. Maybe this was it. . . . Right?

* * *

 **Three hours later**

 **Friday Night-**

 _"Cower in Awe! Recoil in Despair! Cry your heart out!" At last the battle had come, Deidara vs the aloof, maddening Uchiha Sasuke. This was his chance to prove that his art was better than those damn, irritating Sharingan. And here he was, after this final move, he'd win. No, he'd already won against this pathetic, little brat._

 _The terrorist felt his life ebbing away, draining along with the chakra into the center of his chest. With each second, they fused together, creating the ball of life, his life to be exact. It wouldn't be much longer . . . no, not long at all until he could prove to everyone that had ever called his art foolish. His art was superior! More so than Itachi and his damnable brother's Sharingan and so much sophisticated than Sasori's so-called art style (some immortal he'd turned out to be, un)._

 _Deidara gave an expressive laugh, smile crazed as both life force and chakra neared their finale. Soon it would be the tool to bring about immediate destruction. Neither he nor Sasuke would be outliving this one._

 _It was so close, he was so close. So wonderfully, ecstatically close to being able to portray his final explosion to the world. His last art piece. Given to a world that would forever remember such a sensational and astounding performance. One for the history books! The terrorist could see it now: people looking back and reminiscing on how his art had impacted the world itself._

 _"Because My Art-" The last remains of Deidara's humanity melted away, sealing itself away into a finalized ball. Said ball hovered over the ground, two slivers-resembling eyes-were etched in its smooth surface, watching the Uchiha with a dead stare. It radiated chakra, bursting with power and tension as the ball began breaking apart. Long cracks spread up the sides, blue light bursting from around them. The air shivered in anticipation._

 _Even though his body no longer existed, the terrorist could feel himself smile at the look of terror on that Uchiha's face. That was the expression he'd wanted to see! What a pleasant last look for his art to bear witness too._

 _Tension rocketed sky high as the chakra bull burst into a powerful form of light-creating a tremendous explosion that shook the entire earth. "-IS AN EXPLOSION!"_

 _The beam of light shot into the sky, arms made of light rising to the sky at his proclamation. Deidara's smiled one last time as his mind slowly destroyed itself and all became dark as his death came-swallowing the last of his consciousness . . . . . . . ._

Deidara's eyes snapped open, white blinding light burning his pupil on contact. He growled, re-closing them and rubbing his eyes in agony. Where the hell was he that it was so damn bright?!

A chilling wind awoke his other senses and the terrorist was overcome with shivers. His breath came out in puffs of white as he dared to open his eyes once more. This time, however, he kept them squinted, lessening the burn as he peered around the surroundings. Deidara found himself in what appeared to be a graveyard. Gravestones littered the area, one tall one arching high from right behind the terrorist, protecting him from the wind that was currently coming from the north. He shivered again, twisting his head to look at the sky that was a black gray, dispatching thick snowflakes onto him and the area. Tree's that had long lost their leaves, guarded the fenced in graveyard on all sides, their thin trunks, and branches resembling skeletons.

A foreboding sense of panic grew inside Deidara's chest, blocking out his pain for a second as he fought to understand what was going on.

Where was he? How did he even come to be here?!

Deidara bit his lip, desperately trying to remember what had happened last. At first, his mind was horrendously black, void of recent memories, leaving him to search in a panic. It took a few minutes for the darkness to present fragments of memory. The first few which he caught sight off made little sense, one of Tobi and him at the Dango shop, him at a meeting and confidently admitting that he was off to fight . . . the 'who' was blank for a few seconds, the terrorist desperately fighting his memory loss to picture the face of whoever he'd fought. One by one, the face came into focus, the shadows sinking away until Uchiha Sasuke's face became apparent.

Both terrorist and Uchiha had gone head to head. Their battle lasting a good portion of the day before ending in one final explosion. It's result? Their combined deaths.

There was a sudden burst of satisfaction in regards to that fact. He'd caused the death of an Uchiha . . . too bad it wasn't Itachi who'd fallen to his art, but, he'd take what he could when it came to their blasted bloodline.

Deidara quirked a brow in question as he remembered the last jutsu he'd used in order to eradicate the Uchiha. It was the suicidal jutsu, used by accessing the stitched up mouth on the terrorist's chest. His last effort to win the fight, and confirming his own death.

. . . . So why was he still breathing? How could he possibly have survived such an explosion; It also hadn't been any old blast, the bomb he'd ingested was C4: the most powerful clay he'd possessed. He shouldn't be alive.

Deidara looked around and felt the snow on his face, the sting of the wind and the sheer cold from the arctic environment. This had to be legitimate, everything felt so real, from the visuals to his own shivering form. Whether it be a miracle or curse, Deidara had lived after the blast.

" . . . But, where am I, un?" A harsh wind hit the terrorist in the face at the words, as if disliking his nerve to ask questions. He spat, sneezing on snow that went up his nose.

Absently, he rubbed at his nose, looking around with watery eyes and barely glancing at his hands covered in thick fur-

Wait, something wasn't right about that.

Deidara pulled the hand back from his face, giving it a hard, critical look. He found that his hand was no longer covered in pale human skin, in reality, it couldn't even be considered part of a human body anymore. His blood suddenly ran cold, leveling with his already numb body. The hand-. . . paw, was covered in thick blonde hair, where his the mouths on his palms usually were located, was light pink skin.

Deidara reared his head back, away from the monstrosity before him. He yanked his neck around, getting a good look of his curved back and long tail that snaked back and forth in response to his emotions.

He was a damn cat?!

In shock, Deidara tried to stand up, not believing for a second that this was real-but his body would no longer allow for him to stand like a man. This made him even angrier and more distraught than before. That terrorist placed his head face down on the snow, taking shallow breaths through his nose.

"It is Not true . . ." Deidara's voice shook. "It can't be, I'm human! WAKE UP!" He bit his lip viciously, trying not to gag on the hair his tongue caught-and tasted blood. Deidara waited a second, teeth embedded and trying not to cry. He was a ninja for christ sake. Ninja. Do. Not. Cry. Ever. Even if, one could argue, that being a cat, meant he no longer was a ninja. It was the mentality and not even this would drive him to cry! _No_! Deidara swallowed the blood and sat up, glaring around. He would not allow this to get to him. Not now, not when he could potentially freeze to death out here.

"Where. The. Actual. Fuck. Am I?!" A loud yowl rode the wind, bringing Deidara's attention away from both himself and his current predicament. He stiffened, sitting straighter and peering around with narrowed eyes that were battered with snowflakes. The sky and ground before him were a mix of gray and white from the snow, only the black gravestones and thin outline of the fence were visible in the white-out.

The terrorist became overcome with suspicion and his back arched in defense to whoever was generating such a loud commotion. His tail was straight up and rigid, when it did twitch, it was quick and tense.

Keeping his belly close to the snow, Deidara darted over the plain, dodging behind gravestones ever so often, listening. Cats had good hearing and smell but with the severe snow and wind, both were limited. No matter what he did, he could use neither, but no matter.

Numb and still a bit confused using all four limbs, Deidara dove further down the graveyard, nearly skidding when it turned into a steep hillside.

Seeing the gated fence, the terrorist burst into speed, hoping to hide behind one of the thick pillars around the edge of the gate. He would have made it if it weren't for another cat barreling into his side with a loud yowl of rage.

They fell down the hill in a roll, slamming against the fence with the other cat on top, spitting in Deidara's face. The terrorist opened his mouth in anger, surprised at a loud, demented hiss rang from his own lips.

Struggling to breathe from both the other cat's weight and their paw on his throat, Deidara shoved his back feet into the other's stomach, struggling to release his claws.

"Stop your fucking squirming, bitch!" Deidara stopped all movement, surprised for several reasons. He looked up, taking in the silver tom for the first time. It wasn't a big cat, perhaps a bit wider than him-with light magenta eyes that glinted down at him with vivid anger. The most shocking was that he recognized the voice coming from it.

Seeing that the terrorist had calmed, the silver tom smiled, his nails digging into Deidara's shoulder and neck. "Now, tell me: Where the fuck am I?" The same question that had blown to him via the wind.

" . . . Hidan?" The silver tom froze, his eyes wide with shock. Both stared at the other, the snow and wind raging above them.

"Deidara, that fucking you?" Deidara wasn't sure if he was supposed to be delighted, worried, or suspicious for Hidan being here. Now there were two of them? One was pushing it, but two? This was beginning to feel too planned out to be a simple coincidence.

"Of course it is, now let me up, un!" Recognizing the speech disorder, Hidan removed himself from above the smaller cat, sitting and watching as the other took deep breaths. "I couldn't breath you bastard!"

"That's the least of our worries, blondie! Have you even taken your head out of your ass to see where the fuck we are and _What_ we are?!"

Angry now, Deidara came up to the jashinist, nose to nose he bared his teeth in a cat-like way.

"I know of our predicament, on both accounts!"

"Good, then tell me why we're cats! Fucking _cats_ , of all things." Hidan raked his paws over his face, nearly scratching himself with his unsheathed claws.

Deidara wanted to bang his head against a wall. Nothing was making sense. Why was Hidan here as well?

" . . . Hidan, I'm gonna explain this to you so you can understand it," the jashinist's tail twitched in annoyance, his purple eyes glaring. "I don't know why we are cats, ok? I woke up . . . not even ten minutes ago, un." Breathing out a curse, Hidan stood up, pacing back and forth in front of the gate.

Deidara's gaze fell to the ground in deep thought.

"The last thing I remember is dying, you?" Hidan gave a laugh, harsh and loud as he shook his head.

"Dying? You? Really, wow." The sarcasm made the terrorist's ears burn.

"Shut up, you died too!" The jashinist gave a weird look before shaking his head and smirking at him with that smug, egotistical grin.

"Tsk, come the fuck on, Deidara. I didn't die."

Deidara blinked a few times and gave the other a thorough look, up and down. He weighed his question, tasting it on his lips before giving himself permission to ask it.

". . . . Do you even remember what happened? When I awoke, I couldn't remember my death until I forced it." Hidan scoffed at him but he refrained from mocking the other as his eyes went unfocused for a few seconds. He dove through his mind, trying to think back to his last moments, the time before today when he'd been living and breathing. He could remember Kakuzu and him traveling with a monk's body, ready to turn it in for money, (was Kakuzu still alive? Or was he . . . dead?) then they'd ran into some ninja's from the leaf. Shikamaru. The name burned hatred throughout Hidan's body and he found himself recalling being buried alive by said leaf ninja. Oh, how he hated that teenager.

Shikamaru had buried him but . . . he'd remained alive, hadn't he? He must have, Jashin wouldn't have given up on his best disciple!

Hidan racked his tired brain, driving away the shadows and remembering all those months down there. Begging for Jashin to save him, calling out for Kakuzu in the dark, screaming for anyone, _anyone_ to save him from the eternal darkness.

No one had ever come.

Not Anyone. Not Kakuzu, and most certainly not Jashin, his lord, and savior.

What a fucking great god he turned out to be. Son of a bitch.

Eyes alight with remembrance, Hidan caught Deidara's. "I died. Fucking Jashin gave up on me." Anger to his god became evident as the jashinist rammed his shoulder into the gate, screaming curse words.

The gate rattled its accusations with each assault given to it, their noises only drowned out by Hidan's constant words and sentences filled with profanity. He cursed himself, Kakuzu, the Akatsuki, and even Deidara. But, more than anyone else, he belittled, cursed, and validated the name of Jashin. In the past, when the terrorist had found himself accompanying the jashinist, he'd found that Hidan cursing his god was a common thing. It was always in sarcastic banter. Plus the jashinist cursed everyone, no matter how much he acknowledged and approved them. This time, however, was different, each word was awash in anger and pure hatred towards Jashin.

Deidara shuffled, obviously unsure what to do with the tantrum going on before him. He silently wished that Kakuzu was there, the old ninja having been saddled with Hidan for quite sometime, would know what to do when he was like this. But this was foolish to even consider, they were the only two there apparently, so, the terrorist did the only thing he could: wait and allow Hidan to get the whole ordeal out of his system. The jashinist wasn't thinking straight, and even in his normal state, he was a bit . . . unhinged, but, in the end, wasn't every Akatsuki member a bit mad in their own way?

It was only when Hidan's curses had become murmurs, and he'd stopped to lay his forehead against the bars-panting from his outburst-that Deidara dared to come near him and place a paw on his shoulder in something akin to sympathy.

* * *

The moment Madara awoke and looked about, he knew that the entire ritual had gone awry-and it wasn't just because there wasn't a single Akatsuki member in site. No, it wasn't that. Nope, it was everything else.

Number one. It was so painfully obvious that the Akatsuki leader was no longer anywhere near the hideout, that he didn't even question that fact. The snow was a dead give away. Back in the Mountain's Graveyard, it had been the middle of May, quite warm and sunny. All in all, pleasant and relaxing, well, for those not readying for war.

Number two . . . a cat? Why in the world was he a stupid, puny, black and orange cat? Where in the ritual had that been marked down? Madara was one hundred percent sure that cats and any other four-legged creatures hadn't been noted or mentioned in the scrolls they'd stolen. So why was he sporting a tail, and whiskers?

The Akatsuki leader found himself sighing, stopping his walk up the hill. He'd come across a road not three minutes ago, it wasn't well traveled, but he felt the gravel beneath the snow and under his pads when he sunk up to his neck in it. When it came to snow, Madara hadn't minded it, having thought it pretty in his youth, oh how things change. Now he wanted it to burn in the fiery furnaces of hell. The damn stuff was in his eyes and his nose, chilling his body and making him shiver uncontrollably. He was downright miserable.

The snow wasn't the only problem the Akatsuki leader had encountered since his awakening. Definitely not the only one. Upon his waking, Madara had found his body aching with pain, his bones seeming to pulse under the skin like multiple hearts. However, that was only the tip of the iceberg. The big problem was his head. Visually, his head appeared fine, not even a bruise graced his orange head. Inside, was another matter.

It was a constant white noise in the back of his head, much stronger than any headache and humming with chakra. He knew it was abnormal and a part of the Akatsuki leader was frightened as to what now lay in wait inside his mind.

Ignoring the fear, Madara kept going, searching for a landmark, a familiar face, anything to aid him. His head pulsed with each step, and he nearly stumbled in a rush of nausea.

This was his punishment for stealing from Orochimaru, wasn't it? The freaky bastard had probably known and switched the ingredients before they'd actually taken them.

 _'Curse you, Orochimaru.'_

The sound of crunching snow caught Madara's ear over the wind, he instantly stilled, sinking into the snow, hoping to pass as invisible (even though his body was mostly covered in charcoal fur). His eyes darted to the left side of the road, then the right. The snow lining both were much taller than him, towering above, disabling his vision from upcoming threats.

His back unconsciously arched, nose twitching and mouth pulling up into a snarl. The Akatsuki leader knew this was improper behavior for a human but he embraced the cat instinct, and edged forward a few steps, trying to keep both sides of the road in his vision.

Luckily, Madara was looking at the left wall when a cat hopped up, landing a bit further in the mounds of snow, vanishing completely as they probably sunk a good few feet down. Not seconds later, the cat jumped again before disappearing from view just as quick, seeming to be making his way down the hill that Madara was scaling.

From a certain perspective, the jumping was an intelligent way to get around but the Akatsuki leader saw it to be rather tiring and a bit too noisy for his tastes. Nope, to him, walking in silence on this road was suiting him just fine. Leave the common felines to their fun.

He turned to continue his journey and ignore the other, huffing in slight annoyance when he found the fur on his stomach soaked through to the skin.

"Hey, are you capable of speech?" Madara stopped at the voice, he whipped his head to peer back up, finding the other cat having tunneled through, staring at him through a hole he'd dug in order to view the road.

Cocking his head to the side, the Akatsuki leader quickly noted the other's appearance. It was a lithe tom, sporting an orange fur coat with stripes going down his back and tail. Because of their height difference, Madara was unable to tell the others eye color.

"Yes, do you know where I am?" The other cat held a stony face, unemotional as he also seemed to be sizing Madara up. It was curious that this orange tom was suspicious over him as well.

"I was about to ask you the same. No, I haven't the slightest clue." Madara was stricken, there was something about the deep, raspy tone of the cat's voice that sounded oddly familiar. But it couldn't be anyone he knew. Even with himself mentally agreeing on this, the Akatsuki leader's mind itched along with the massive throb of power. Perhaps he could test this cat. It wouldn't hurt if it were but a simple stray or house cat.

"You ever heard of the Akatsuki?" He called up in a loud voice, for the wind had risen a bit during his silence.

The orange tom remained still, the tiny tunnel he'd made blocking out the brisk wind. Madara almost envied it, he _greatly_ detested this weather.

"And if I have?" Oh, this cat knew something. He was too serious with his wording, to broad in his answers. Madara licked his lips in consideration

"My name is Madara." There, if this cat knew of the Akatsuki he'd know him, right? It was a cat, after all. It wasn't like it would have a personal hatred towards him.

On hearing the name, the orange cat smiled, giving a small laugh before jumping down from his tunnel-leading Madara to hold his ground and try not to snarl at the sudden intrusion of his space.

Sensing the other's discomfort, the orange tom sat down trying not to appear a threat and failing miserably with an aura of control and command surrounding him. It put Madara completely on edge.

"Calm yourself, Uchiha Madara. I was hoping to run into another member. Don't you recognize me?" On further inspection, Madara found he did recognize the other. From below, he'd been unable to see his eyes, now he saw that they were indeed one color, purple with multiple rings surrounding his pupil.

"Nagato, it's been awhile."

* * *

 _"No matter who you are . . . you do not know what kind of human you are until the very end. One realizes one's true nature at the moment of death . . . Don't you think that's what death is about?" To think that it hadn't been long ago that Itachi-san had been with him, now he too was gone. Kisame would be a liar if he said he didn't miss the Uchiha, they'd become close on their travels. These past few months, after his passing, the missing-nin could've sworn he'd felt the dead Uchiha's gaze on him, but he wasn't superstitious and had brushed it off. Itachi-san was gone and had done so willingly. He was sure that if the Uchiha were to come back and haunt someone, it most certainly wouldn't be him._

 _With the memory of Itachi-san still heavy, Kisame closed his eyes, the Water Prison he'd created around himself-thrumming with his chakra. Beneath his outstretched hand was one of three shark's he'd only just summoned, it was silent-like the other two-waiting for a command from him._

 _Opening his eyes, the missing-nin's beady stare rose from the aquatic hunter-meeting the gazes of the six ninja outside his water jutsu. They were talking frantically, something about trying to secure him and not allowing for him to escape. They'd already tried to tear the info out of his mind, wanting to know the Akatsuki's current plans. But that was something Kisame couldn't and wouldn't allow. He believed in Madara's plan for peace and he wasn't about to sell him and the Akatsuki out. No, not this way._

 _He knew what had to be done in order to protect the info he carried within his head. The Akatsuki's plan had become his dream and he'd be damned if these six were to attain it from him! No, he'd be loyal to the end._

 _With a tired smile, Kisame gave the final command to the sharks._

 _'Itachi san . . . it seems that I_ was . . _." He felt the three pair of jaws dig into his flesh. " . . . A_ decent _human, after all. . ." There was so much pain and yet Kisame's last thought was satisfaction for he knew they couldn't use him. No, his memories were his own._

"Ki-" Kisame's ear twitched, someone was speaking. "Kisa-" Couldn't they see he was trying to sleep? He tried to roll over, wincing as his bones complained, discomfort making him groan. "Kisame?" There was hesitance connected to his title, as if the person wasn't sure it was him. But, come on, his skin color was a dead giveaway as to who he was. What other blue-skinned people ran around with the name Kisame Hoshigaki?

Tiredly, the missing-nin opened an eye, bitterly blinking at the sudden wind blowing across his face and body. He coughed at snow filling his mouth and shook his head. "Kisa-"  
"Yes, what is it?" He was a bit annoyed now, both at the lack of intelligence of the one talking, and the current weather.

"So, that is you?" The missing nin's eyes opened wide as he recognized the quiet voice beside him. Turning his upper body, he found a . . . black cat? Suddenly very confused, Kisame shook his head and looked at the cat again. Nope, it was still there, peering down at him with black eyes. This wasn't making sense, he recognized the voice coming from it, but the body was all wrong.

"Itachi-san?" The black cat gave a small smile, nodding his head politely before gazing around them. Kisame couldn't take his eyes off the Uchiha, a thousand questions running circles around his mind. " . . . You're alive." Itachi flicked his tail at the answer, curling it around his feet with a sigh. The missing-nin gaped at him, completely astounded. Itachi-san was alive and well? How was that even possible? He'd . . . Uchiha Sasuke had killed him, hadn't he? Kisame had even seen the Uchiha's body afterward, cold and defeated before Madara had removed the corpses' eyes . . . and now here he was, _breathing_ and still attaining both eyes. His partner and friend was ok, a _cat_ , nonetheless, but it was still Itachi-san.

"Tell me, Kisame. What happened to the Akatsuki? . . . and to Sasuke?" The missing-nin opened his mouth, prepared to answer when his mind drew a blank. He blinked, not understanding why his memory was bare. Had the Akatsuki won? No . . . had they lost? Kisame's consciousness split into a massive headache as he tried to remember. He savagely found one tattered memory after the next, the headache increasing with each find.

The Akatsuki had to be alright. They _had_ to be.

" . . . The last I remember, we were preparing for war and then . . ." Hadn't he gone to the mist to gather intel? Had they caught him and taken his memories? No, that wasn't it. "Then I . . .died." Kisame frowned as he recalled summoning the sharks, remembering Itachi-san in his last moments, and going through with suicide in order for the intel not to fall into the wrong hands. He'd succeeded, thank the lord above.

Meeting the Uchiha's gaze, the missing-nin was surprised to find the other shocked at his response. The black eyes were wide, unblinking as the wind ruffled his fur coat.

"But you . . ." Itachi-san shook his head, looking away. "Sorry, I just wasn't expecting such an answer." Kisame gave a dry chuckle.

"Don't lie in an apology, Itachi-san, we both understood the chances for survival. We all knew from the day we became Akatsuki members: We were walking dead men." The Uchiha eyed the laughing missing-nin with a sad look, vanishing a second later under a cool mask of disinterest.

When the laughter died off, Kisame was left gazing at the snow a second, he frowned. "I'm sorry that I don't have any info on your brother." Itachi merely shook his head.

"It's of no consequence, Kisame. Having . . . died, I don't expect you to know. Perhaps Madara is around. I'm positive that he'd know." Having been his partner for multiple years now, the missing-nin caught the sudden dark tone surrounding Itachi-san's voice when it came to Madara. Being respectful of the others space, he didn't comment on it.

"Speaking of my death . . . do you remember when we first became partners?" Itachi hummed in response. "You said, that a person realizes who they are at the end." Black eyes met his with interest.

"And who were you?"

Kisame grinned up at him. "A decent human." Itachi watched him a second, assessing his answer before giving a smile as well. "Not a shark?" The missing-nin shook his head, chuckling at the reference to their past discussion on humans in comparison to sharks.

But neither shark nor human fit Itachi-san's current condition. Had god promised the Uchiha life, but only in the form of a cat? And if so . . . was there a reason for his return?

"So . . .um . . . I don't mean to pry but, why are you a cat?" Finding this funny, the Uchiha gave a tiny chuckle, pointing at the missing-nin with his tail.

"Haven't you given yourself a good look, Kisame?" Even more confused, the missing-nin looked down at his chest, a covering of light blue fur looked back at him. He blinked. Numbly, he pulled up a paw to inspect it. Wait, so they were _both_ cats, now? Oh, how his head hurt.

* * *

When, at long last, Deidara opened his eyes, the world surrounding him hadn't changed much. There were a few key things he noted instinctively. One such being the wind, its severity had died down, now, nothing more than a light breeze. Noting its peculiar charm, the terrorist found he enjoyed the nearly silent environment.

Unlike the wind, the snow hadn't let up, on the contrary, it now fell with even more passion than before. Because of it, Deidara found his back wearing a thick blanket of snow. Ear twitching in annoyance, the terrorist stood, shaking his back. A shiver ran up his back when he noticed that his paws had frozen and lost circulation.

"Hidan, we need to move before we freeze." Turning his attention to the now silent jashinist, Deidara found the other hunched before the gate, his head leant against it for support. The terrorist couldn't help being taken aback by such a drastic change, he'd never seen the jashinist so dejected in all their time together.

"Have you fucking noticed yet?" Blue eyes blinked, confused.

Without turning, the jashinist pointed his tail at the gate, no, past the gate. Following the appendage, Deidara squinted, trying to view through the ever present falling snow. Past the iron bars, was a road, its gravel hardly visible to the eye. Thick walls of packed snow lined it, seeming to guard it against the army of bare, spindly trees on either side. It had to lead somewhere, a town, he hoped. After all cemeteries weren't normally without a town nearby. But, apparently, Hidan's attention hadn't been on the road, instead, the terrorist found his eyes locking onto the only obscurity he could: a clump of amaranth, practically buried in snow. "See it?" The jashinist no longer was downcast, eyes dead, instead he was glaring past the bars, at the dash of color.

"Could be anything, un." A part of Deidara had already decided to go take a look when he stopped. Mouth dry, he took a few steps forward and placed his face against the gate. He could've sworn that the amaranth clump had _moved_.

Without giving it a second thought, the terrorist slipped through the bars, dashing out into the open with his stomach to the ground. Tail twitching, Deidara found himself going faster at the sudden decline, the snow bunched up sending him sliding more so than running-towards the amaranth.  
Hidan was left behind, watching the other trip over the clump of color and land a few feet past it. The jashinist shook his head and swore under his breath. "Fucking asswipe. I swear, heathens these days."

Spitting snow out of his mouth, the terrorist face burned with embarrassment. He stumbled to a standing position and turned to face what he'd been running towards. Blue eyes widened a bit when at last he was able to understand what exactly he was looking at. The flash of color was actually a _body_. A _cat's_ body, to be exact.

"Blondie! The fuck you doing rushing in without me?!" Deidara ignored the other who was following at a slower pace, instead, he took a few cautious steps towards the body. Its body seemed still, save for the constant rising of its stomach, signifying life.

The cat's fur coat was striking against the white surround it. Near the stomach was thin, pale red while it was shaggy up the length of its tail. There was something familiar about the color that irked the terrorist's head a bit. He shook it, trying to ignore the familiarity worming its way in. But the thought grew black wings, growing into one recurring suspicion: this cat could possibly be another Akatsuki member . . . and if they were, then this was no longer a coincidence. Two of them being here? Very odd. But three? No, that was a bit too much of a stretch.

Suddenly wary, Deidara prodded the amaranth cat's shoulder.

Sensing no reaction, the terrorist sighed, casting a look up and down the body. The only movement was the rise of the stomach . . . until blue eyes caught sight of another movement. Jerking his head back to look at the cat's face, Deidara found reddish brown eyes gazing intently at him.

 _'Is that-'_

With no warning, the amaranth cat shot up, swiping out a single paw at the terrorist. Deadly, sharp claws met unknowing cheek. Four long scratches split open, splattering blood amongst the snow like fallen beads. Reeling back, Deidara let out a howl of pain. His voice echoing in his head as everything went fuzzy and all he could see was the frosty air of his own breath and the red splatters on the snow.

Rubbing his bleeding cheek into the snow, the terrorist hardly noticed Hidan dashing past him and jumping onto the amaranth cat with teeth bared and his own claws unsheathed. The cursing and hissing were loudly evident, but Deidara remained oblivious to all but the burning in his cheek and trying to muffle it with the cold below him.

" . . . H-Hidan . . ." The words were frozen on his tongue and he coughed, shaking his head and standing back up. "Stop, that's . . ." Blue eyes turned to the two cats who had currently been fighting each other, their blood mixed together on the snow. Radiating with bloodlust, Hidan tore his gaze from the cat below him, teeth bared, and glared at Deidara.

"Why the fuck should I stop, blondie?! This bitch just ripped your fucking face open!" The jashinist was livid, his claws digging into the cat beneath him with vengeance. No way in hell was he letting this bastard up that easily!

The terrorist shook his head once more, fuzziness desperately clung to his vision, causing him to blink multiple times. When at last he could see somewhat straight, Deidara turned his attention to the amaranth cat who was gasping for air and glaring right at him.

Those eyes . . . so unemotional, even in this situation. Although he had yet to hear the cat speak, Deidara knew who it was. He'd know him anywhere, no matter the form.

"Because that's Sasori."

Those reddish brown eyes lost their impassive look at his words, quickly replaced with bewilderment. At last, it opened its mouth-never removing its gaze from the terrorist-and said one single word.

"Brat?"

* * *

Heyo luvs, sorry for the long wait! I wanted this chapter to be as great as I could get it and I must say, I'm proud with the result. Please tell me what you thought of the chapter, they really do help encourage me and I'd love to know!

Have a blessed day, luvs! I'll see you all next time ;)

-Jinx of the desert


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